


Are You Happy Now?

by Katlyn1948



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arya and Gendry are EndGame, Canon Divergence, DEEP SHIT, Depression, F/M, Feelings of Regret, Gendrya BigBang, Healing, Isolation, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Other, Trying to move on, but failing miserably, but they have to go through some stuff first, mild depression, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlyn1948/pseuds/Katlyn1948
Summary: Arya, trying to escape the horrors of what Westeros left behind, goes to find what’s beyond the borders. But on her adventure of exploitation, she realizes that she is on another adventure: one of self discovery and sudden realizations. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, newly appointed Lord Gendry Baratheon is struggling to keep up with the high life. With the demands of running a region and the Dragon Queen breathing down his neck for a marriage prospect, Gendry finds that living the high isn’t what it’s all chocked up to be. When will these two realize that perhaps they are happier together than apart?
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Podrick Payne/Sansa Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	Are You Happy Now?

**Author's Note:**

> WOW! 
> 
> This took MONTHS but if finally came together. 
> 
> I am SO proud of the work that went into this and my artist did such an amazing job! 
> 
> But let me tell you, this was feat and I literally just finished with an hour before my deadline, so if some parts feel a little rushed, it is because I procrastinated and rushed it a bit...but I still think it came out awesome. It is a monster and could have been split into parts...but your girl didn't want to that! 
> 
> Before I let you read, I must that the lovely @coffegost (tumblr) for being the best collaborator/artist! I truly love the piece and it melds so perfectly with the story! 
> 
> Now, without further ado...ENJOY!

A soft summer breeze blew through Arya’s loose strands of hair, sending the thin whips to tickle her freckled face. The sun was just setting below the horizon and the crew of her ship were beginning to finish up their daily duties before retiring to the decks below. She had ordered her crew to anchor for the night, deciding to enjoy the stillness the sea had to offer before a tempest came to sweep them away.

It was rare for her to anchor for she preferred the safety of a harbor beside her hull, but the calm waters of the ocean glistening in the light of the moon provoked her mind to stop. The reflection of the moonlight cast a blue hue to sweep over the calm waters. It was a deep and rich blue color that reminded Arya so much of the man she left behind.

Time and distance did little to quench her thoughts of him; in fact, the further from Westeros she sailed, the more she found her mind drifting to what the new appointed lord was up to. Had he taken to his title? Surely, he was still forging. Or perhaps, he had already married and sired a babe or two in the time she was gone. Arya shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t imagine him anyone but her, yet she could not fault him for seizing the words she had echoed to him those years ago.

Selfishly, she hoped he hadn’t headed her advice to marry a lady. That he was miserably alone on the coast of Storm’s End. It was unfair, and Arya knew that, for she was living the life she had always wanted; sailing the endless ocean discovering countless opportunities to further her knowledge of the growing world around her. It was wrong of her to wish him ill luck in his endeavors, especially since it was her idea for him to pursue it.

_Any lady would be lucky to have you_

Arya scoffed as the words echoed in her mind. She hadn’t realized it back then, but those words were used as a ploy to push the only person she could truly trust outside of her immediate family. It was self-destructive measure she was determined to use, even it meant her own heart would shatter in the process. In all honesty, she didn’t think it would work as well as it had, for he didn’t even wish her a safe voyage as she departed from King’s Landing to ride to Lannisport, before sailing. 

It had panged her already crippling heart, yet she swallowed the tears and focused on the daunting task ahead of her. She was sure to encounter many obstacles during her voyage, some more dangerous than others, and she couldn’t let the ‘what if’s’ distract her from safely sailing her and her crew through what was sure to be treacherous waters. 

The first year at sea was, for lack of a better word, uneventful. There were long days in the sun, followed by even longer nights in the cold, with nothing but an endless horizon. For a time, Arya was sure there was nothing west of Westeros and with dwindling supplies, it was looking grim for her and her crew around her. But when the small mass of land perched over that endless horizon, it was a day of celebration. The entire ship had rejoiced, and Arya couldn’t help but send a silent prayer to the gods.

They had docked and discovered an island not charted on any maps she had brought with her. Surprisingly, there were natives that knew the common tongue and had described people who “looked and talked” like her. Arya was fascinated by the stories these natives were telling, and while her crew gathered their strength and they restocked on certain items, she stayed with what the native called “Elders,” learning all she could about their island and the people who occupied it. From there, she sailed further, encountering other islands with similar stories of “visitors from the east.” She collected artifacts and cartographies that the islanders provided, amassing a large collection for the citadel to map once she returned to Westeros.

For a year she sailed, and not once did she allow herself to stop and think about what was going on back in Westeros, or rather who was back in Westeros. And as she sailed, she had no real timeline of when she would return. Arya liked her freedom and she was in no rush, in fact, the more she could gather for the citadel, the better.

But as the time progressed and the season started to turn, Arya found that it was becoming longer and longer out at sea between each island. The winds weren’t favorable, and often her ship would take weeks before docking again, if there was an island to dock.

Loneliness started to creep in, and Arya found herself diving within her thoughts more than usual. There were nights where she would wake, drenched in sweat, from the nightmares that had slowly resurfaced. Scorching memories ripped through her peaceful dreams, turning them cold and empty. Often, she would wake with a sore throat, due to the ravaging screams that sprang from her lips as she tossed in her bed.

Her crewmen said nothing as she rose in the morning, joining them to break their fast. She would stay for the commodities but retreat to her chambers below deck once she knew she wasn’t needed. The once lively conversations she would have with her crew, all but dwindled. Seclusion became her escape and she had no qualms about distancing herself.

Then a terrible bout of jealously had sank within her being, causing her lash at poor unsuspecting souls. She remembered such harshness towards a lady’s maid her sister had insisted she bring with her.

Arya had taken the opportunity to go above deck, only for a little while as to enjoy the light heat that had radiated from the high sun. She was looking beyond the horizon, as she so often found herself doing, when the young girl approached her. She couldn’t have been more than ten and six, at least four, namedays younger than Arya herself.

The young girl seemed nervous as she approached Arya, much to her dismay. She wasn’t in the mood for company and fidgeting girl would not help the already sour mood Arya found herself in nearly every day since their last departure from the islands.

“Excuse me, Lady Stark?” Arya turned slightly, only to glance at the girl. She didn’t bother correcting her on her title and waited for the young girl to proceed.

When the silence stretched and the young girl realized Arya was waiting for her to continue, she took a deep breath, as if to quench her nerves, “I’m sorry to bother, but I was hoping that, since you are the captain of this ship, that I-or rather we- could get your blessing on marrying?”

Arya arched her brow, “And who is this we?”

“Benfrey and I, my lady. We wish to marry.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Arya let out a curt laugh. “Wait to marry, you have the rest of your life.”

“But Benfrey and I, we love each other.” The young girl countered.

Arya scoffed, “And what do you know of love? You and Benfrey have known each other for a little over a year, that’s nothing.”

Tears began to well in the young girls’ eyes, and Arya felt a slight guilt wash over her. But she quickly pushed it aside as she stared down the young girl. “I-I know it’s a bit fast, but we haven’t the faintest idea on how long we will be at sea, and we wish to marry in case anything was to happen.”

Arya noticed how the young girl moved her hands to rest on the small swell of her stomach, “You’re with child.”

The young girl hung her head in guilt.

“Are you stupid? We have a maester on board who would have been more than able to give you droughts of moon tea!”

“I’m sorry, my lady, I didn’t know.” Her voice was soft as she spoke.

“Do you know the danger you and Benfrey put us in? A babe on board is not ideal!” Arya took a deep breath to calm herself, she shouldn’t be angry, but the recklessness of her lady’s maid could cost the crew, even if it was a babe.

“My lady, please, that is why Benfrey and I wish to marry. I do not want my child born a bastard.”

Arya winced at the word and she could feel her anger bubble once more, “Fine, have the maester marry you. But once we dock you and Benfrey must leave the ship, is that understood?”

The young girl nodded, “Yes, my lady. Benfrey and I we do not have anyone waiting for us in Westeros. We wish to make anew, even if that means starting over in a strange place. It will be safer for the babe anyway.”

Arya nodded and departed from the deck, leaving the young girl beaming from ear to ear.

She hadn’t realized at how jealous she was of the young girl at that moment. Sure, she would have never married or had babes as young as her, but now as she sails on this grand ship Arya wished she had someone, anyone, to share all of what she had accomplished, with. She couldn’t understand how, even with a crew of nearly sixty men and women, she felt completely alone. She felt more alone then when she thought her entire family was dead.

The only thing keeping her company were her never quieting thoughts. And, by the Gods, they could be loud.

Everything she had suppressed during her first year at sea had slowly made its way to the surface and she couldn’t help but wonder about the ‘what if’s.’

What if she had stayed? What if she had asked him to come? What if she had gone back to Winterfell? What if this or what if that?

All the scenarios whipped passed her mind, each having a different outcome than the next. Some were good, but most were bad, and all brought her back to the decision she had ultimately decided upon. She couldn’t change the past, as much as she wanted to, but she could determine the future, or at least try to.

The decision did not come lightly, and it took her two whole moon turns to finally make up her mind. Her crew had finally spotted another island, and as promised Benfrey and Dacey departed, delighted to be married and starting anew on a strange land. Arya was sure to find an elder who, not only spoke the common tongue but was efficient in assisting with births to leave Dacey in. It wasn’t hard to find an elder woman who did exactly that, and Arya was put at ease that they would be left in good hands.

They resupplied and sailed out, charting their way to White Harbor. If they followed the sailing guide, Arya estimated they would make it to Westeros within a few moon turns, nearly three years to the date since she began her voyage. It would be a welcome surprise, or at least she hoped, for no one would know she was coming.

And that’s how she found herself on the deck of her ship, staring up at the full moon above her, just a few days from docking in White Harbor. The journey home had taken longer than anticipated, nearly by six whole moon turns, and not without its complications. And during those six moons, Arya found herself diving deeper within her thoughts then she cared to admit. Those thoughts left scars upon her mind; scars that would take moons, if not years to heal.

“Captain?” The voice of her second in command pulled Arya from the still waters. She turned slightly and smiled lazily at him.

“Yes, Ardel?”

“We’ve set a course to White Harbor that should led us there on the morrow. It will be late in the evening, and we may have to sleep on the ship while it’s docked, but I’d gather we can head to Winterfell in two days’ time.” 

“On the morrow? But that puts us ahead at least by three days. What’s changed?” Arya stood from the railing of the deck, arching her back straight as to look him in the eyes.

“Lonny suggests the winds will be favorable come morning, pushing us into the harbor much sooner than anticipated.”

Arya nodded, “Very well, wake me once morning comes, I wish to greet White Harbor as we sail into the harbor.”

“But captain, we won’t reach the harbor till the moon is high in the sky.”

“No matter,” Arya shrugged, “Then I will sail with my crew above deck and greet the morning seas.”

Arya noticed the slight surprise in the sailor’s face. He had not expected her join the crew, considering her days and nights were mostly spent below deck. She knew of her lack of presence had caused some strife among the crew, and as a captain it was her responsibility to keep order. Ardel had done a decent job at keeping some order around the ship, but Arya knew that if her presence was scarce any longer, mutiny would surely follow suit.

Ardel gave a broad smile before darting back to his post behind the wheel, checking its locking mechanism before scurrying below deck to join the rest of the sleeping crew. Arya chuckled at his enthusiasm. He as at least eight years her senior, yet he still had a je ne sais quoi about him that made the man youthful. He reminded Arya of Rickon, or at least what she could remember of her little brother. The thought made Arya’s smile waver, bringing a heavy feeling within herself.

It was a familiar feeling, one that presented itself just a year after her voyage began. It was heavy and deep and if she dwelled on the lingering pain, it would bring more destruction. It almost felt like a storm raging inside of herself; a relentless banter of wind and rain pounding on her chest, dying to break from its prison of ribs and lungs and heart. At times if felt untamable and if given the opportunity, could break free with nothing to control the outcome.

She had experience this feeling only once before during a time in her life where she was sure that she was the last Stark to roam the world. The only barrier taming the storm within her was that of the Faceless Men. Her training to become ‘No One’ eased the heaviness, allowing her to focus on the task she had at hand. But without any distractions and just the open, endless sea, it had returned tenfold nearly drowning her.

Arya took a deep breath, as to ease the feeling, and stared once more at the moon above. It was glistening in the night sky, taking reign over the stars that shined beside it. It was taunting her, for the moon was never changing and always observing. She wondered what the moon had been observing in Storm’s End and if he had been looking up at same moon, wondering where her adventures had taken her.

* * *

The night skies were clear, so much so that the moon was visible as it glimmered on the courtyard. It had been several moons since Gendry had seen the night sky, considering Storm’s End had undoubtably lived up to its name. Storms had ravaged the region, bring wind, rain, and hail. For a time, it had been tolerable, but as the wet season dragged, so did the rain. There was near constant cover of clouds that would linger over the castle, unleashing copious amounts of rain that it would wash out the stink of the stables within the first few minutes.

But now, as the wet season began to turn, the rains were timid; sparingly forthcoming. Not to mention the heat that had begun to set it. The sun would rise high in the sky and stay there until it was finally time for it to sleep, bringing forth the humid night.

He couldn’t complain too much, however, for the cease in rainfall allowed him to work in his forge, hammering away at the frustrations the day had to offer. Constantly being pushed and pulled in all different directions had worn him so that not even the privacy of his chambers could scratch the itch of stress. No, his true relief came from the feeling of his rough hammer in his hand, swinging away at a hot piece of steel, listening to the metal sing with praise as he did so. But even that was a mild reprieve. Utter calmness came from his drifting thoughts to a certain she-wolf voyaging around the world.

The thought of her eyes; the pools of grey swirling around could ease even the most bubbling of rage. Perhaps it would be the words he knew she would say if she were here, seeing him so gracefully address the lords. No doubt, _stupid_ and _idiot_ would echo through the halls of the castle if she were here to see his growing faults.

It was a common occurrence he often found himself in; his mind drifting to the remembrance of her body and the way she shuddered under his touch oh so many nights ago. Even when a very important conversation between he and the dragon queen would arise, his mind would linger on her smile or her laugh or the ease she had about herself.

Yes, Gendry’s thoughts were preoccupied with someone who he could no longer touch. He knew his focus should be on the situations brewing within the kingdom, even the situations within his own walls, yet as he willed himself to think of anything other than her, his mind failed him. Even as three years had come and gone, he could not get Arya Stark out of his head.

At first, it helped ease the struggles of lordship. He would try to remember the way she spoke or the way she stood, act like a highborn. With the help of Davos and his thought of Arya, he was sure to be a lord the people of Storm’s End needed. His first year as lord seemed to run smoothly. The people loved him, or rather loved that a Baratheon had returned to pick up the duties Renly had left behind.

Gendry helped the region prosper with Ser Davos at his side. Even his meetings with his bannermen had been a welcoming surprise, for he was sure that those would not run as smoothly as he hoped. There were times where he would have to make the necessary trips to the capital to attend the meetings that Queen Daenerys would hold for the wardens of the realm

It was there he became acquainted with Sansa Stark, wardeness of the North. He had only exchanged a few words with her during his time in Winterfell, but now as they shared the same duties, he found a solace in her words. She would often lend him advice that he would gladly heed, taking them to Storm’s End and applying what he learned from her to better his region. Of course, some had to be modified to fit the Stormlands, versus that of the North, but nonetheless, it was a great help.

He was coming into his own as a lord and thought that perhaps Arya had been wrong about the high life. He seemed to be getting his footing, fitting right in with the men who had been lords since birth.

But not everything turns out to be as it seems.

As time progressed, Gendry found himself struggling to keep up with demands. His bannermen were bantering him on a new taxation system and Queen Daenerys had been inquiring about a marriage prospect. There was not a day that went by without some letter from some lord wanting to make trading deals or marriage proposals to gain good fortune. It was all becoming too much, and he wondered if he should have followed Arya to Lannisport. Perhaps he would be happier than what he was now.

A slight breeze had picked up and began sweeping the embers of his fire away from its hearth. Gendry cursed under his breath as he tried to regain the strength of the flames, shifting the burning coals and adding more wood for it to eat. He wasn’t quite finished with his task, wanting to shape out the base of the sword he was working on. It had been so long since he had been a forge, and he wanted to savor every minute of it before he was pulled to resume his ghastly lordly duties.

With it being the dead of night, he was sure that no one was to bother him. Most of the castle was asleep, aside for the straggling maids tending about and the guards keeping watch. Davos had retired to his chambers early, following his wife to their chambers. It was just him and forge and the moon keeping him company.

For hours he forged, not realizing the moon had begun to dip behind the glow of morning light. Birds began to sing, and a creeping heat had made its way into the forge, causing his sweat to cling to his already slick body.

He sighed as he laid his hammer down, analyzing the work he had so carefully crafted. It was nowhere near finished and he yet had an idea of what kind of sword to make, but it had a very familiar characteristic, almost resembling a needle for threading.

Gendry tucked the sword into the corner of the forge, hoping he would be able to return to it before lordly duties take him from his passion.

“Lad, have you been forging the whole night?” Davos and made an appearance, indicating that Gendry had indeed stayed within his forge, pounding away.

He nodded, “Yeah, had some stuff to work out.”

“Was it about the letter from yesterday?”

Gendry shrugged, “The letter, the lords, the drought. Everything, really.”

“Well, the letter we can work through. The lords will never be pleased with how you are handling business, and the drought…well, lad, there is nothing you can do about the drought.” Davos tried to ease some of Gendry’s tension, but it did little to help the growing dread within his belly.

Gendry grumbled and pushed past Davos to head towards the castle, “When will they arrive?”

“A few hours at most. I hear she has another prospect for you. Perhaps you should consider.”

“And have her pick some ditz who knows nothing about running a keep? I’d rather throw in my own prospects.” Gendry scoffed.

Davos followed close behind Gendry, keeping in stride with his large ones, “You have no prospects, lad.”

“Exactly.” Gendry stopped in his tracks and turned towards Davos, “I need a lady who can help me run Storm’s End. Someone who isn’t afraid to let the lords know they’ve fucked up. Not some prissy lady who will spend her time sewing and gossiping about unimportant things.”

“Queen Daenerys is trying to secure alliances. A marriage would help that.”

“I know what Daenerys is trying to do, I’ve spoken to Jon about it, but she keeps throwing these women my way that the people of Storm’s End will not take kindly to.”

Davos face softened, “That Storm’s End won’t take kindly to, or you? I’m sorry lad, but not every woman can be like her.”

Gendry sighed, “I know.”

He turned once more, trudging through the castle before reaching the landing of the steps that lead up to his chambers.

“Go on up, lad. A bath was drawn for you this morning.”

Gendry nodded and dragged his sore body up the stairs to his chambers. He swiftly closed the door behind him and shed his sticky clothes from his body before sinking himself deep within the cooper tub. The water was still warm, and it helped ease the ache in his muscles. His arms felt numb as they remember the feeling of forging for hours without reprieve. He knew that today was an important day, yet he still chose to forge through the night. It was the only way for him to clear his head before the royal party arrived.

He’d be lying if he said he was excited about today’s royal visit, but in reality he had been dreading it. Since the day the letter arrived nearly a week ago, he had been loathing this day. He knew of Queen Daenerys’ intentions and the fact that she was bring not one, but three ladies for him to charm gave him all the more reason to sulk and hide away.

He sank deeper into the copper tub, allowing the soothing oils and warm water to coat his entire body, relaxing as best as he could before being torn away from the comfort it provided. He sighed as he lulled his head back, finding that he was being to drift into a welcome slumber. But before he could truly fall into the black abyss known as sleep, a knock came from his chamber door.

“Enter.” He stated, never moving from the tub. He had expected it to be Davos coming to shoo him out of the water and into a presentable suit, but was relieved to see it was Celeste, a companion he had found solace in.

“I thought I’d find you here, sulking about.” She said as she crossed his chambers to where his copper tub had been seated.

Gendry grumbled, “I’m not sulking, I’m relaxing, can’t you tell?”

A crude laugh escaped Celeste’s lips, “If you really wanted to relax, you would have done it last night instead of being in the bloody forge of yours all night.”

“And I’m assuming it would have involved you?” He asked, with an eyebrow raised.

Celeste shrugged, “It could’ve, but you were too busy with steel to realize I was naked in your bed. Or better yet, too busy thinking about the one that got away to even consider me.”

Gendry blushed and tried to make up some excuse, but Celeste quickly diverted, “I’m not angry, Gendry. I know you’re in love with someone else. Hells, I am too, but both are unobtainable.”

“I’m sorry, if I knew-”

“Don’t be sorry. If you knew I was up here last night, you would have taken me and I would have let you and we both would have regretted it, as we have all those other times before.” She shrugged.

It was common occurrence between the two of them and it had been for the last year. Gendry was struggling and the stress of it all was weighing him down. Between his thoughts of Arya Stark and the demands of the lords and crown, he could hardly take it. Celeste had been his reprieve. She was maid when he first arrived in Storm’s End, left with an unborn babe by a man who was betrothed to someone else.

She had given birth just two months into his lordship. Regrettably, the babe had to be cut out of her, resulting the loss of her womb and her babe. She was lost, just as he was, and they found a friendship in that. But soon, friendship wasn’t enough and they both craved a release. He hadn’t meant to fall into bed with her, it just happened, and like she said, they both had regretted their lack of willpower. Normally, Gendry would be hesitant; he had when he was with the three girls from King’s Landing, not wanting to father a bastard, but Celeste was barren and there was no fear of siring a babe.

They would often find themselves tangled within his furs when the pressure became too much, and she would leave just as swiftly once their coupling had ended. They both had confessed that they imagined other people when together, he would see Arya beneath him as he thrusted, and she would see her betrothed lover as she took him.

Perhaps it was wrong of him to think of Arya’s grey eyes as he coupled with another woman, but he couldn’t help himself. Her pull on him was too strong, that he knew he would never be happy with another but her.

“We have a few hours before the Queen and her consort arrive.” Celeste moved closer to the copper tub, pulling at the laces of her dress. “I could join you for the time remaining.”

Gendry watched as her skirts fell to her ankles, leaving her in nothing but her smallclothes. He shifted slightly as he felt his cock harden. She wiggled out of her small clothes and dipped her foot into the water, gasping at the cool sensation it left on her leg. Gendry had grown accustom to the water’s temperature, which had grown colder during their conversation.

She sunk herself below the water, treading through to join him on his lap and sinking down on his erect cock. Gendry sighed at the feeling and found a sense of relief as she moved. He willed himself to think about Arya and the memory of their coupling. The way she had withered beneath him as they both succumbed to their release. He closed his eyes and pictured her grey eyes and the way they looked up at him as he placed gentle kisses along her face and down her torso when they were on those sacks of grain.

He also remembered their night after the battle. It hadn’t resulted in their coupling, but rather just embracing each other, feeling the heat of the other’s body as they laid beneath her furs. It was the first time Gendry had ever felt Arya Stark shiver and he pulled her close to his bare body, giving her every last inch of heat he could spare.

That’s what he remembered when he released, Arya’s name escaping his lips as he did so.

* * *

White Harbor hadn’t changed since the last time Arya had sailed into it. It’s harbor was quiet in the dead of night, with only a few dock men running about. Ardel and Lonny had been correct in their assumption of when they would dock, and Arya thanked the gods for the covering of night to conceal her ship as they anchored at an open dock. No doubt, by the time the sun rose in the sky, Lord Manderly would send word to her sister that Arya Stark was back on Westeros land.

Her ship was hard to miss, and she was sure that Sansa had given word to every port and harbor of the description of her ship, in case she was to show up without word; as she was doing now. The bow of the ship dawned a rather large direwolf’s head, not to mentioned the Stark Sigil flying high in the sails. Anyone with the right might would be able to tell that her ship belonged to a Stark, and that surely it must hold the traveling princess.

It was late, and most of her crew had already gone to bed, but Arya craved to be back on solid ground and, against her better judgement, decided to descend the ship and head into the center of town. The moon may have been high, but there was still an inn with candles gleaming in the window indicating it was taking paying customers.

Arya breezed through, nearly extinguishing the candles as she entered. There were a few candelabras lining the wall, giving the inn a bit lighter. She saw a few drunkards passed out the tables with their half empty ale jugs handing from their loose hands, drool coating the wooden surfaces. The ones that were sober enough, still had difficulty climbing the stars to their rooms, stumbling up the steps like child who had yet to grow into their legs.

She scurried past the sleeping drunkards to stand before a stoutly woman with graying hair and sagging breast. She had a pitcher in one hand and a hand broom in the other, no doubt to keep the drunkards a bay from fondling her drooping mounds. She stood a good head taller than Arya and scowled down at her as she approached.

“What can I do for you, miss?” She asked with a heavy northern accent that Arya hadn’t heard in quite some time.

“I was wondering if you have a room available?”

The inn keeper pursed her lips and shook her head, loosening her hair form its hold, “’Fraid not. Gave the last room to that poor bloke climbing the stairs.”

Arya nodded, “You get a lot of sailors, then?”

“No, just a bunch of drunks vying to escape from them wives for a bit.” A smiled broke out on her face, “Or some husbands who don’t want their wives knowing they fuck other women.”

“And that pleases you?” Arya cocked her head, studying the woman.

The woman scoffed, “Of course, especially since it keeps my pockets full. It’s expensive managing the only inn on the harbor.”

Arya nodded and pulled a bag of coin from her pocket, dangling it in front of the inn keeper, “Will this do to give me the room you gave him?”

The innkeeper’s eyes lit up as she stared at the bag of coins in Arya’s hand. She nearly dropped the pitcher of ale reaching for it, but Arya was faster, and she raised a thin brow towards the inn keeper, daring her to snatch it.

“Oh, alright. You can take his room. I’ll have one of the maids bring you some food and ale. The sheets should already be turned down.”

Arya smiled and placed the bag of coin in the inn keeper’s hand, swiftly striding up the stairs, passed the stumbling man and into the vacant room, locking it behind her. The room wasn’t large, in fact it was about the same size as her chambers on the ship. There was a rather nice feather bed and sheets had indeed been turned. A few candles lit the dim room, giving it an eerie glow.

Arya was quick to unlatch her cloak, throwing in atop of the desk chair nestled in the corner of the room. She made quick work of detangling her locks, which had grown considerably while she was at sea. She could have taken a knife to her thick mane, but she found she grew fond of having it long. It had been years since it was past her shoulders, and she found a comfort at reminiscing the old memories of her mother combing through her knots that she would get from playing in the courtyard with Bran. It was near untamable then and had gotten worse as she grew older. Often, she would braid it and let it hang loose behind her, letting the sea wind whip it lightly through the air.

Once her hair had been thoroughly detangled, she moved to remove her tunic and breeches, leaving her only in her small clothes to sleep in.

The bed looked comforting, and after her long journey, she wished nothing more than to sleep on a bed that didn’t move in the middle of the night, but she was ravenous and when the knock of the maid came from the door, she sighed in relief.

“Here you are, miss. Some sweet bread, with some cheese and meats and a bit of ale to wash it all down.” The maid handed her the tray and Arya took it gladly.

“Thank you, and here you are.” She handed the maid a few coins, earning a smile from the shy thing before she turned away. Setting the tray down on the nearby table, Arya picked at the sweet bread, placing a few bits of it into her mouth. She moaned at the flavor, not having had sweet bread since her voyage. The fruits were also a wonderous item, seeing as she hadn’t had fresh fruit since their last visit to an island near ten moons ago. The dried meats of the North reminded her of her days in Winterfell, chatting among friends and family.

It has been so long since she experienced the tastes of home, and she took her time, savoring every bite that went into her mouth.

With her belly full and her eyes heavier than before, Arya shuffled towards the bed, but before climbing in, she noticed the parchment and quill on the desk in the far right of the room. There were no candles placed there, so she hadn’t notice until she reached the bed. It veered her direction and grabbing the nearby candle stick she slowly made her way to the desk.

She had mean to write during her voyage, but with the probability of the ravens not making to their destination, she forgoes the idea. It wasn’t until she saw the fresh parchment and quill that she had the sudden urge to form a letter, and not for her sister, no Lord Manderly would take care of that, but rather a stubborn bull miles away in the humid air of Storm’s End. If she were to send a raven come morning, it would reach the Stormlands by next morning. He would know she had arrived back to Westeros.

Arya took her seat at the desk and pulled the quill from its inkwell, shaking the excess of before putting it to the parchment. It had lingered there for a moment, for she had no inkling of what to say or how to say it. They had left on such bad terms, that perhaps a letter wouldn’t be worth the effort. Not to mention there was a chance he could be married with children by now. What if his Lady Wife saw the letter, would she be furious that he was receiving words from another woman? Or, perhaps, the letter could get lost and end up in the wrong hands, giving away her secret that Arya Stark was back.

The implications were heavy, and as much as she craved to read word from him, she could not take the risk. She placed the quill back into the inkwell and left the now stained parchment on the desk to collect dust as she walked back towards the bed. Climbing in, she lifted the furs to over her small frame and basked in the comfort it brought. The heat of the seas had her sleep bare nearly every night without so much as a thin sheet to cover her, but now back in the north where the winds grew colder, she reveled in the feeling of the furs surrounding her.

As she drifted, she couldn’t help but see his blue eyes. The thought of the letter had brought the feelings she so desperately tried to rid herself of up to the surface, sending her mind into a frenzy.

Her dreams became filled with the memories of him and their adventures together. From their first encounter to their night on the grain sacks, and that longing she thought had diminished only resurfaced tenfold. She found herself creeping her hand down to her throbbing mound, sliding a finger in between her wet folds. It was nothing compared to the way he had touched her that night, with a fevered passion that she was sure she would break instantly.

She wanted him that night, more than anything she had ever wanted, and as eager as she was, he slowed her down, preparing her for his intrusion.

Arya remembered the way he had stopped their fevered kisses as she straddled him. She was disappointed, thinking he didn’t want her, but when he turned her over with his hand exploring the patch between her legs, she was sure she was going to explode.

She tried to remember his movements; to mimic them as she explored herself, but the point was moot for her small fingers were nothing compared to his large calloused ones. Yet, as the memories of that night flooded her mind and her body became hypersensitive she could feel herself tip over the edge and with one more flick of her swollen bud, she cascaded down into a deep abyss, gargling out his name as she did so.

* * *

Gendry stood uncomfortably as the royal progression made its way through the gates of Storm’s End. Queen Daenerys had opted to ride to the Stormlands rather than mount her dragon, but Gendry was sure it was lingering around, never too far from its mother.

There were three carriages that paraded through the gate, two were smaller than the main carriage, which he was sure house Daenerys and Jon, and the imp, Lord Tyrion. The others were, no doubt, for the three ladies Daenerys had insisted Gendry to meet.

He watched as the unsullied marched in front of them, with the Dothraki close behind, rounding out the progression. It was a larger party than what Gendry was accustomed to and he was sure some of the older rooms would have to be dust off and turned down to house such a group. Most of the unsullied would stay in the barracks, aside from Grey Worm and a Dothraki screamer Gendry could never remember the name of.

The progression came to a halt and the door of the larger carriage burst open, Lord Tyrion jumping out first in order to introduce the Queen.

“Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.” Tyrion presented. “And her King Consort, Jon Snow, First of His Name, The Bastard of Winterfell, The White Wolf, Sworn Brother Guarding the Realms of Men, Lord of the First Men and the Free Folk. 998th Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, Defender of the Wall, The Resurrected.”

Gendry watched as Daenerys exited from the carriage with Jon following behind. They were dressed in light leathers, a mix of reds and greys intertwined between them. Daenerys wore her iconic dragon broach, while Jon donned the Stark sigil, proud of his roots.

He smiled as he saw them approach, taking Jon’s hand with a firm grasp. “It’s good to see you both.”

Jon smiled wide, “You as well.”

Gendry turned to Daenerys and bowed, “My queen, welcome to Storm’s End.”

“Gendry, please, let us drop the formalities. We’ve known each other for quite sometime to be so formal.” She smiled, bringing him into a hug.

Gendry went a bit rigid but accepted and gave her a soft squeeze in return.

“Please allow me to introduce my ladies in waiting.” She turned and motioned for Tyrion to open the carriage, allowing the three ladies to flow out, giggles escaping their lips. “This is Adelaide, Arella, and Anya. Sisters from the Riverlands.”

The three girls glided towards him, curtsying as they did so.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

“Yes, my lord, we are grateful for your hospitality.”

“Very much so.” 

Gendry couldn’t tell who was speaking. It was rare for twins, but triplets identical triplets were far and few between, and they were young, no more than seventeen namedays, making Gendry shift uncomfortably.

“It is my pleasure to house all of you. Come, you must be ravenous, there is a feast waiting for your arrival.” He boasted as he began to lead the party to the mess hall. It was less than elegant, but with the Grand hall under reconstruction, he had to opt for the smaller of the two to house the party.

Daenerys and Jon followed close behind, with Tyrion a few paces ahead conversing with Davos. Gendry could hear the giggling sisters behind him, cringing as another one would pass their lips.

He couldn’t ignore their beauty, for they were beautiful, however they were too…much. Not to mention they were a good ten namedays younger than he. They were practically children, and the thought of marrying one and getting her with child sent shivers down his spine. Yet, over the last three or so years, it had been a common occurrence for Daenerys to bring ladies for him to court, hoping they could be the next Lady Baratheon. But it always ended the same: Gendry voicing his dislike and Daenerys pursing her lips in disappointment as went back to King’s Landing to find him more prospects.

At one point he nearly mentioned Celeste as a possible prospect, but his heart wouldn’t bear it. No, there was only one woman for him, and he was sure he would die alone and miserable, pining for a woman who never truly loved him.

He had vowed to never be his father, and for the latter of his life, he hadn’t. Yet, there he was, longing for a woman he would never have. Now he understood why his father drank, because it was easier to dull the pain rather than living with the constant reminder that she wasn’t there. Not that he hadn’t indulged more than what he should have over the years; he certainly has had late nights where he couldn’t remember what happened the next morning, but he had taken precautions as to not let it happen on more than a few occasions.

He couldn’t risk his people, whose trust he worked hard to gain, see him as nothing more than a reincarnation of his father, because that was the last thing he was. And to prove he wasn’t his father, he had vow not to marry just as a means to an end.

Of course, he had tried on several occasions to let Jon know of his stance and how he did not want to marry. He had hoped that Jon would express his feelings to Daenerys, for he could try to waver her mind, yet even after their conversation, Gendry found that Jon hadn’t done so. Or if he had, he hadn’t done a great job at convincing her otherwise.

“Gendry, this is lovely.” Daenerys called him back to reality, as they stepped through the door of the barrack mess hall. “I honestly couldn’t tell that this was the hall your guards used.”

“Hmmm, well I must give that credit to Davos’ wife. She insisted that a high lord, even if newly appointed, shouldn’t have to eat in squalor. I tried to tell it wasn’t necessary; I’ve eaten in far worse, but she insisted.” Gendry mused as he took in the subtle decorations around the mess hall. Davos’ wife really had outdone herself. The walls were stripped of their old banners and replaced with a newer version of the Stag emblem. Cobwebs and dust were cleaned from every surface and the floors had been scrubbed not once, but twice. New oak tables were made by the finest wood workers and a makeshift dais housed the grand table, where the Queen and her company would sit.

Gendry let out his hand to help Daenerys up to on the dais. Jon followed suit, climbing the steps with ease. The sisters each gladly took Gendry’s hand as he smiled polity to help them up.

Then he climbed the dais, taking his seat next to Daenerys. Jon had been situated on the right her, while Gendry remained on the left. He allowed his esteemed guest to settle within their seats while their remaining party gather through the doors, taking their respective seats in the hall.

The air grew silent once the last of the men trickled through, giving Gendry the opportunity to rise from his place and announce the welcome of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Lords and ladies, please allow me to welcome Queen Daenerys Targaryen and her King Consort, Jon Snow. They have graced us with their presence, so please let us show them the respect that they deserve.” Gendry lifted his goblet, cheering their arrival. “Let the feast begin!”

Trays of food poured through the dining hall, as each servant placed one in the middle of each table.

It still astonished Gendry every time he would host one of these grand feasts, as to how much food the rich really ate. For most of his life, he grew up on nothing but brown stew that did nothing but fill the belly. The taste was horrendous and if he was lucky, he would procure a piece of bread to stomach it. Rat had tasted better than whatever that stew was, and he should know, for rat was one of the few things he ate on his travels through the forests, oh so long ago.

He smiled at Celeste as she brought the tray of food specifically designed for their table on the dais, allowing Dany and Jon to grab their servings before digging in himself.

It was quiet among them as they ate, watching the group below billow in laughter as they ate their meals. It was only after the main course had been swept away and the sweets had come out, that Dany had decided to converse with Gendry.

“How are you doing, cousin?” She asked him as she took a sip of her wine.

“Well, thanks. And yourself?” He returned.

“Hmmm, I would be better if you would choose a wife, but aside from that mishap, well.” She jested, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Gendry scoffed, “You allow me to be forward, so I will be forward. You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, Dany. I mean, the prospects you have chosen are characters.”

Daenerys let out a laugh, “Those are not your prospects, cousin. They are what I said they were; lady’s maids. Your true prospect is arriving from Dorne come the morning. She’s different from the others, I think you’ll like her.”

“Hardly. I do not like anyone you throw my way.” He confessed.

Dany shrugged, “I know this. But hear me cousin, she has a certain persona about her, one that you’ll find familiar.”

Gendry’s lips fell to thin line. He knew who she was referring to, for it wasn’t a secret he had been caught up on someone that was no longer in their presence. He hadn’t mentioned it was Arya, but Daenerys was a smart woman, and she would be able to figure out who this mysterious woman was.

“No one can replace her.” He said as he tried his best not to grit his teeth.

“I know no one can replace her, she’s one of a kind, but you must move on.” She leaned closer to him then and lowered her voice so only he could hear. “I cannot bring you an Arya Stark, but I can bring you someone that isn’t dull like the other ladies I’ve brought you. She is nothing like the other prospects, I can assure you that. And if you are pleased with this one, then your tryst with that chambermaid will have to cease.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Gendry said with not one ounce of emotion. He may be a lord, but he still knew his place and it was best to shut up and listen then to try to push her harder. He may be able to say certain things to her that others cannot, but she is still Queen and she if she can give a title, she can certainly take one away.

“Good, I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding. Now, let us enjoy the rest of this feast.”

* * *

She arose early, before the sun had time to rise above the horizon and the sounds of quite snores from the drunkards below could still be heard. She hadn’t slept long, just a few hours to get her wits, and she was up getting ready to ride towards Winterfell.

Arya had wanted to get there before the dawn broke, so as to surprise her dear sister.

Gathering what little belongs she had brought from her ship; she crept the door open and glided through the hallways without so much as a sound. She was quite like that, always sneaking through the shadows as to not be seen. Even as a young child, she had found she had the ability to sneak upon her family and friends. It came in handy when trying to prank Sansa; her only fault was allowing Bran to tag along, with his loud stomping footsteps.

But alone, she was agile, like a cat stalking its prey.

Shuffling through the inn, she made it down the stairs without disturbing the floorboards and glided along the wooden planks of the dining hall. The front door had been latched, as to stop anymore patrons to arrive. Arya brought the latch up, locking it into place before slowly opening the door and creeping out into the night.

There were several horses tied on a banister, and leaving a note and some coin, she mounted the nearest steed and began her journey north.

If she calculated correctly, if Arya were to continue on through the night, she would reach Winterfell right before the sun were to crest over the horizon. Ushering the horse forward, she maintained a steady gallop, only coming to a trot when the horse needed reprieve. There were few stops in between, just enough to relieve herself and snack on a few bits of stale bread she took from the end. Arya did not want to risk running into unwanted company, especially in the dead of night.

For hours, she rode, pondering how her visit would go with her sister. She was sure there were to be words exchanged and perhaps some reprimanding, but she hoped it would offer some relief to the longing she’s been experiencing.

Although, she knew in her heart that true reprieve would only come in one person, and he was leagues away.

But Winterfell was not and when she galloped over the hill to see her family home glistening beneath the glow of the moon, her heart clenched with joy. She hadn’t expected to miss home as much as she had, and now that she was back she knew that she should have never left Westeros in the first place.

She trotted steadily up to the gates, careful not to be seen by the soldiers standing guard. She wished not to repeat the last time she had walked through Winterfell’s gates in so long; the guards not believing that she was indeed Arya Stark. No, she knew ways into the castle that only one would now if they had explored the grounds as extensively as she had.

If the walls around the godswood had been rebuilt, then hopefully the hidden door was also built. Arya prayed to the Gods above that her sister wasn’t mundane enough to cover such a door, for only the Starks knew of its existence. She felt her way around the back wall, hoping to find the latch that belonged to the secret door. It was harder to find it in the dark, but instinct told her where to go and sigh of relief came upon her as she grasped the latch, pushing the stone door aside.

Arya entered through the opening, making sure to close the door shut behind her as she began to move through the godswood. The weirwoods were healing from the destruction of the Long Night, giving Arya pause as she passed the heart tree. Her hand immediately went to her neck, the memory of the Night King’s grasp still haunting her.

Bran was so close to dying, and if it wasn’t for her skills she had obtained in her travels, then he would surely be dead. But she couldn’t take all the credit, no, Theon had died trying to protect Bran, and for that she will forever be grateful for her his sacrifice.

Shaking the memory from her head, Arya continued on, entered the castle just as quietly as she was when leaving the inn. Some of the housekeepers and maids would be up, preparing for the day ahead, but most of the castle, she knew, would still be asleep.

If she knew her sister well, Sansa would have taken over mother and father’s old chambers, claiming them as her own.

She climbed the steps two at time, making sure she was quite with each step she took, and halted when she came upon the door. There was some hesitation, for she didn’t know how the reception of her return would be. Catching her breath she entered the room, thanking the gods that it hadn’t been latched for the night.

Creeping through the shadows, she watched her sister stir, only to realize that she was sitting up in her bed with her eyes glued upon hers.

There stared at each other for a moment, Arya realizing that her sister knew she was present within her chambers. She hadn’t realized that her sleeping hadn’t returned to normal since the Long Night, for Sansa had to take milk of the poppy just to settle for the evening.

They were studying each other, and before Arya could get a word or two out, Sansa spoke.

“What are you doing here?” There was a harshness to her sister’s voice, and Arya was sure how to perceive it. It had been nearly four years since she last saw the fiery red-head, and now as she stands before her, announcing her presence, the welcome was less than warm. 

Arya scoffed as her sister’s disdain, “I can’t come and see my only sister?” 

Sansa took a deep sigh, trying to compose herself before speaking. It was something that Arya remembers her doing as children; usually right before her sister would reprimand her for some silly little thing. 

“What I meant to say was, ‘What are you doing here in Westeros?’” 

Arya shrugged as she moved from the darkened corner of her sister’s room, “I got bored. I wanted to see family and come home.” 

Arya glanced to her sister, raising her brows in surprise, “I mean, you’re obviously thriving.” 

“I would have written, but I wasn’t sure if the ravens would make it.” She blushed, pulling a hand over her swollen belly. “It’s my second, actually.” 

“Your second? My, you work fast.” Arya plucked a plum from the fruit basket placed in the middle of an oak table from her sister’s solar. She bit into the sweet fruit and hummed as the juices ran down the sides of her mouth. It had been so long since she had anything so fresh and so sweet. Swallowing quickly, Arya asked, “So, who is the lucky lad the bedded my sister?” 

“Podrick.” 

She nearly chocked on the plum she was consuming, “Podrick!? The squire!?” 

“Yes, Arya, the squire. I’m sure you don’t have a problem with it, considering you bedded a blacksmith.” The jab was meant as a joke, but Arya, being the stubborn girl that she was, didn’t take it as such. At that moment she regretted ever telling her sister of her tryst in the storeroom with the brooding blacksmith, for she didn’t expect her sister to throw it back into her face. 

“That’s not fair.” She grumbled. 

Sansa let out a curt laugh, “So it’s fine for you to bed someone lower than you, but when it comes to me, I can’t? That’s quite hypocritical.” 

“I didn’t say that. From me, it’s expected, but from you…it’s surprising. All you ever talked about as children was how you would marry a handsome prince, not some squire.” Arya pointed out. 

“We aren’t children anymore, Arya. We haven’t been children in a very long time.” 

Arya let out a humorless laugh. It was interesting that her sister had said that, because it was true. Arya couldn’t remember the last time she did something remotely childlike. It was surly during her time in King’s Landing, but even those childlike memories were plagued by the gruesome events that the city held. 

“No, we haven’t been.” 

There was a pregnant pause between the two sisters as they studied on another. A long time has passed between them and during those formative years, they each had changed.

Sansa was now Wardeness of the North. She had duties and responsibilities that she had to uphold. Procuring a few heirs would ensure that the North remained with the Starks, so long as another war wouldn’t break out, and remain loyal to the royal crown. Arya knew this is what Sansa had wanted, and although not entirely an independent kingdom, the North was thriving by the rules Sansa had placed. Crops were prospering, Arya saw as much during her ride up to Winterfell, and according to a few Stark guards crime was at a low. There were a few rules she was sure Sansa had to follow that came from Daenerys herself, but nothing Sansa would have issue with. The North was under her sister’s reign, and she was doing a splendid job.

“So where is your lord husband?” Arya finally asked as she took a seat at the oak table where she had plucked the plum from.

Sansa sighed as she followed her sister to sit across from her at the table, “He’s sleeping. As is most the castle.”

“I figured as much…what I meant is why is he not in here with you?”

“I cannot sleep with my belly this big and a full-grown man sleeping beside me. Podrick moved to Robb’s old chambers when went into my seventh moon.” Sansa rubbed her hands over her swollen belly, smiling down as she did so.

Arya could tell that her sister was happy and although she was happy for her, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy run through her body.

There were times in her childhood where she often found herself jealous of Sansa. She was always prettier and smarter and well-liked by everyone. Her tall physic with her Tully blue eyes and long red hair always made her the belle of the ball. So often, would Arya hear of her sister’s beauty compared to her drab appearance. Sansa had always been beautiful, inheriting their mother’s looks, while Arya pulled from her father.

There was no denying she was a Stark, with the dark hair and grey eyes often associated with the Starks of the North.

And although there was nothing to be ashamed of by looking like a true Stark, the boyish features had made many people mistake her for a boy. It wasn’t until she grew into her face and her body grew into that of woman, did she learn to accept the way she looked. However, she noticed that as she grew, she would be compared to her late aunt, who according to the people around her, was a great beauty. If those strangers were comparing to her to her aunt, then perhaps she was beautiful.

Gendry had certainly believed so.

Yet even as those words had spilled from his lips, her insecurities were too much and she believed that no one, not even a bastard smith, could see her as beautiful.

But that wasn’t the root of her jealousy this time. No, she was jealous of her sister’s happiness, for Sansa had gotten everything she had ever wanted. And although Arya was a happy for a time while sailing away to far distant lands, that happiness didn’t last forever, and she found herself craving a different kind of happiness.

“So, two then?” Arya asked as she shook the jealousy from her head.

“Hmmm, this will be the second.” Sansa confirmed.

“And the first, where is the little one?”

“She is in my old chambers. Oh, Arya you would adore her! I’ve told her about you, and she will be so excited to finally meet her adventurous aunt.” Sansa mused.

“She knows about me?” Arya asked, surprise evident in her voice.

Sansa chuckled, “Well, of course she does! You may not be here, but that doesn’t mean she can’t know about you. In fact, she taken quite the liking to you.”

“And her name?”

“Catelyn Arya Stark.”

Arya’s heart tightened as she tried to keep tears from welling in her eyes. It was an honor, really, for Sansa to name her first born not only after their mother, but her as well.

“Honestly, she should have just been named Arya, for she acts just like you. Hates anything remotely lady like and trying to get the mud from her dresses has been an absolute nightmare! Not to mention, she hasn’t pulled one ounce of Tully looks; she is all Stark, that one.”

Arya smiled, “I bet mother is rolling in her grave.”

“No, it’s punishment from the Gods for all the times I was cruel to you.” Sansa jested.

Arya let out a hearty laugh, “Then we are even!”

“Oh, please tell me that you’ll be staying for a time. I cannot bear it if you leave again.” Sansa pleaded.

Arya nodded, “Yes, I will be staying in Westeros. I am done with my travels on the high seas…at least for now.”

“How wonderful!” Sansa exclaimed.

The two sisters continued to convers through the early morning, watching as the sun finally crested over the horizon. The birds began to sing, and the morning breeze billowed through the open window of Sansa’s chambers.

They had dined on the fresh fruits and cheese left from the previous night, before a soft rap on the door startled their conversation.

“Enter.” Sansa stated.

Her large oak door creeped open, revealing a maid with a tray for sweet bread and milk.

“Forgive me, my lady, I hadn’t the faintest idea you had company.” The maid said tentatively.

“It’s quite alright, Alysa, please set the try on the table and fetch my husband.” Sansa motioned for the maid to enter.

With a swift nod, the maid complied, placing the tray on the table in front of them, before scurrying out.

Arya looked at her sister, there was so much more she wished to ask her before she retired to her chambers, but with Podrick coming, her time was limited.

“Sansa…how…is he?” She asked her sister. She had been trying to avoid asking, but the urge was too strong, and her heart needed to know.

“From what I’ve heard, he’s well; thriving actually. The Stormlands have a new vigor to them that hasn’t been seen in some time. I’m sure his bannermen have been giving him a hard time, not to mention that Daenerys has…well never mind.” Sansa cut herself off quickly, not wanting to reveal too much. But Arya caught on at the change of subject.

“Daenerys has what, Sansa?”

Sansa sighed, “She’s trying to get him to marry, and from what I’ve heard, there may be a prospect.”

Arya’s heart clenched as she tried to keep a hard face, “Well, I must retire, it’s been a long journey home. Have my chambers remained untouched?”

“I had Alysa turn down the sheets the day before. Lord Manderly sent a raven as soon as your sails were spotted from White Harbor. I’ve known you’ve been back for a few days.” Sansa confessed. “But, Arya-”

“It’s fine. I’m tired and wish to retire.”

Arya turned on her heel and exited her sister’s chambers, hurrying down the halls of the castle with tears spilling over her lashes.

…

Sansa would have chased her sister down, but the sheer size of her swollen belly made it impossible. Instead, she waited for her husband to join her.

“Podrick, darling, before we break our fast together, please send a raven to Lord Manderly. Tell him to stock Arya’s ship with enough supplies to get her to Griffin’s Roost.”

Podrick knew better than to question his wife’s requests and simply nodded, turning from where he entered to quickly send the raven.

* * *

The festivities had lasted well into the night, with rounds of ale and wine pouring through the dining hall. Daenerys had retired soon after the conversation with Gendry, with her three lady’s maid following close behind. She gave Jon a quick pec before exiting the dining hall, Celeste escorting her to her shared chambers with Jon.

The rest of the high nobility enjoyed the last bits of alcohol before stumbling down the dais and to their respective chambers.

Gendry remained, however, with Jon and the pair watched as the guards and soldiers from both parties began to retreat to the barracks making the dining hall eerily quiet. Davos had retired soon after Daenerys, with his wife in tow as they scurried to their chambers.

The two former bastards lingered, enjoying the quiet, for it wouldn’t last long.

“I saw you and Dany talking earlier. Should I be concerned?” Jon teased.

Gendry chuckled, “No, Lord Snow, she was just telling me of my next marriage prospect. A lady from Dorne, I hear.”

“Aye, a niece to Lord Trebor Jordayne. From what I’ve heard, she’s a tough one to keep still. The rumors are that she has a spirit for adventure. Most Dornish women are quite independent, from what I hear, but she’s got a real taste for freedom.” Jon mused as he relayed important information to his friend.

Gendry scoffed, “Then why would she marry?”

“Why would anyone marry nowadays? For alliances. It’s the way of the game. Albeit, it’s fucking stupid, and I’d hoped Dany could have come up with a better way of appeasing the Dornish houses, but sometimes we have to play the game of thrones.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Jon I know.”

“The Jon you knew was naive to the world around him. Now, living at court, I’ve seen what needs to be done. Although, it would be nice to escape from time to time; get away from all the bullshit. Go back to The Wall. It’s easier there; less to worry about.”

“Yes, because who would want to willingly freeze their balls off.” Gendry laughed.

Jon smiled at the jab, but continued, “It’s so bad after a while. I’d like to Tormund and see how he is doing. From the ravens that have been sent, the wildlings are thriving. Mayhap Ill take a trip after you finally get married.”

“Not likely.” Gendry frowned. “I will entertain Dany’s prospect, but marriage is not in the stars for me.”

“Will you ever tell me who broke your heart and made you scowl at the thought of marriage?” Jon questioned.

Gendry sighed, only looking at his dear friend. He wished he could tell Jon the truth, but he was afraid of how he would receive the revelation. How does one tell a friend that he took his younger sister’s maidenhead in the middle of a war on top of grain sacks? Not lightly, he gathered.

“One day, but not today. Come, let us gain sleep, for tomorrow will be yet another round of trying to dissuade a marriage prospect.”

The two men stood and bowed in respect before parting in different directions to their chambers. Gendry made quick work running up to his solar, yanking his leather cloak off as soon as he entered through the door. He hated dressing up, and if it were up to him, he would wear simple breeches with a light cotton shirt that could be pulled up to the forearms if he were to get too warm.

But he was of nobility now and had to wear what would be expected of a high lord. Now he understood Arya’s frustrations and how she craved a simple life. Now, he would never wish to go back to the Flea Bottom, but a simple smithy in the Riverlands with an acre or two of land that he could give to his children sounded perfect. He would gladly give Davos Storm’s End, if it meant he could keep his family name and not be bothered with lordly duties.

He’s often thought about it; giving it all up just for simple life. Mayhap he could be happy with just a simple lady who didn’t mind getting muddied once and a while. One that could help in the forge or in the fields. He didn’t want some prissy lady, he didn’t want any lady, but if Arya Stark was never to return, then he must find happiness for himself.

Pushing thought of her aside, he shed his clothing and piled into bed. He threw the furs off, letting his naked body soak up the night air.

He wondered if Celeste would join him, for he needed a good fuck to destress from the day, but thought better of it, heeding Dany’s advice. Celeste was a true friend, but by no means did Gendry love her. They knew their place and he had a sneaking feeling that their tryst earlier that morning would be their last.

Gendry felt himself faulter, unable to keep sleep at bay. He knew he needed rest, for it would be a long day of casual conversation and gauging on whether or not to let Lady Jordayne down easily or harshly. They had been a few prospects that had earned the easy let down, but for most he was blunt and often their feelings would be hurt. He wasn’t trying to be cruel, far from it, he just happened to get a laugh out of the spoiled ladies crying back to their fathers that ‘Lord Gendry didn’t choose me!’

It was quite a spectacle, one that left Daenerys fuming and the Lords questioning.

He really hadn’t the energy to put on the spectacle come the morning, so he prayed to the gods that Lady Jordayne was who Jon said she was. It would calm his soul to be ‘nice’ on letting a woman down.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, greeting sleep as it came.

Though, he had wished it was longer than what he had.

His slumber was startled awake by Celeste as she slammed the door of his chambers open. Dawn had only broken above the horizon when she came stomping through his room.

“Why are you not up?” She chastised as she began to pour two hot jugs of water into an already filled tub. The chambermaids must’ve gathered his bath while he remained asleep, for he had not remembered the copper tub being there when he retired last night.

“I hadn’t realized I was to be up at such an early time.” He groaned.

Gendry grumbled as he shifted in his bed, just realizing that his cock stood erect for all to see. He swiftly gathered his furs and covered his member before Celeste had a chance to see.

“Yes, well, the Dornish lady will be arriving soon, and we must prepare you.” She glanced down to his lying form, her lips falling into a thin line. “There was no reason to cover yourself up, I’ve seen the thing at least a hundred times. Now, get up. I’ve prepared your clothes in the opposite room and your bath has already been prepared by Liesl and Harley; those poor girls probably saw your cock from the moment they entered. You really should think about sleeping with some furs, it would do you some good.”

Celeste gave a sturdy pat on the bed before turning on her heel and exiting the chambers, allowing Gendry to bathe himself.

He readied quickly, and not a moment to soon, for when he finally managed to make his way to the front gates, the horns had just sounded. Daenerys and Jon were already waiting, along with her lady’s maids, Grey Worm and Davos. He felt a tad bit embarrassed at his late arrival but pushed that aside as a carriage entered through.

It was pulled by two beautiful black stallions that Gendry had never seen before. They were majestic beasts and nearly twice the size of his own horse. He hadn’t realized that the Dornish took pride in not only their wine, but their steeds as well. It almost reminded him of the Dothraki and how they worshipped their horses; or ate them if it came to it.

The carriage rolled to a stop and the door quickly swung open. A stout old man exited. He was tall, but his present gut gave him an interesting gait as he walked to greet his hosts. He bowed respectfully to each that surrounded the carriage, giving Daenerys a sweet kiss on the hand. He took ahold of Gendry’s and gripped it tightly, shaking it with fervor.

“Thank you all for having us. I am Kevven Orme, advisor to Lord Jordayne. He has tasked me to making sure his niece does not make a mistake by taking the Storm Lord as a husband.” He rounded the carriage and made his way back to the door, holding out his arm for the lady to take.

Gendry watched as she grasped her advisors hand, her long slim fingers encircling his arm. She took a step out of the carriage, letting the loose strands of her clothing flow through the slight breeze.

She was beautiful, Gendry could see that.

Her hair was long, nearly down to her waist, and much like her garment, it flowed effortlessly in the wind. Most of the ladies that he had been introduced to had their hair tightly pinned in a stylish updo. It was a refreshing sight to see that she let hers down. Her face was angled as her jaw line dove down into a sharp ‘v’ only to be disturbed by square chin, with just the slightest indent. Her skin was copper, much like the tub he had bathed in just earlier that morning, and her eyes burned a fiery gold.

Her attire was light, as she only had a thin chiffon blouse with sleeves cut at the elbow. Her dress was not a dress, but rather breeches with an overlay atop, mimicking a skirt. Pieces of chiffon from her blouse was designed to have loose ribbons, giving the effect of water as it swam through the air, and the colors resembled desert sands that could be found in the region of Drone.

She stepped lightly towards Gendry, giving a small bow before turning to greet her Queen.

Already he could tell that she was not like the other ladies, for she had not swooned at the sudden sight of him. It was a relief, and he found himself intrigued by her presence.

“Thank you for having me. I am Lady Alora Jordayne, niece to Lord Jordayne of Dorne. I’ve been eager to meet you all.” She said polity.

“Thank you for join us! Now, I’m sure you are tired from your travels. Why don’t you rest, and we can convene afterwards?” Daenerys piped. 

Lady Alora smiled, “If it is alright with you, your Grace, I’d much rather stretch my legs; go for a walk? Perhaps Lord Baratheon could show me the grounds?”

“Of course! We shall leave you two be. Come, everyone, let us break our fast while these two…walk.” Dany gave him an assuring look as she brushed past him, edging him to accept.

“Right. If you please, I can show you the cliffs and then we can make our way back around to the dining hall.” Gendry offered his arm, but Lady Alora polity declined.

They walked in silence for a while, admiring the views the cliffs had to offer. It was rare for him to make the trek up the hillside to the cliffs, not the mention it was nearly always raining, but with clear blue skies and the slight breeze, it would be a lovely place to show off Storm’s End.

“This is beautiful.” Lady Alora stated as soon as they reached the top.

“It is. It’s also a nice place to think.” Gendry confessed.

“I’m sure…Lord Baratheon-”

“Please, just call me Gendry.” He smiled.

“Of course, Gendry. I must confess, I do not expect to stay for very long. You see, I agreed to meet you for my uncle’s sake, but I have no intention of getting married. And from what I’ve heard, neither are you.”

Well that was…unexpected.

Gendry was baffled by her straight response and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Then why make the journey?” He asked, curiosity spiking.

Lady Alora shrugged, “Perhaps I thought that maybe you could convince me otherwise. I’ve always hated the idea of being bogged down to one man, for in Dorne we can take many lovers, but this is political, and I understand as a high lady that we must make sacrifices. Although I do not wish to marry, I am willing to, if it means a better connection to the seven kingdoms.”

“Ahh, so you understand why I’ve declined all of my other prospects.” He smiled.

Lady Alora nodded, “You do not wish to marry because you do no wish to be a pawn in someone else’s game. But, you are also in love with a woman you cannot have. I’m not blind, nor am I deaf. I’ve heard the gossip and how you’ve turned down nearly a dozen ladies. There is only one reason as to why a man would do that, and you are committed to that unobtainable love.”

“You’re a smart one.”

“No, I listen.”

Gendry sighed, “I don’t think she is ever coming back. I’ve waited for nearly four years, and yet there have been no signs of her return. She even told me to marry; to move on, but it is near impossible when my heart cannot do it.”

“It seems, Lord Baratheon, that you’ve accepted that she is not to return. Perhaps you can move on.”

“With you?” He asked honestly.

Lady Alora shrugged, “With me, with another lady, or even a chambermaid. It does not matter.”

“Would you marry me, then?” He suddenly asked.

“Well, I suppose I could. Although, I cannot promise that I’ll be the perfect lady for you.”

“I do not need a perfect lady; I just need a lady who understands. And you’ve seemed to have done that before ever meeting me.”

Lady Alora chuckled, “I’ve done my research.”

“And you’ll be fine with marrying, then?”

“You don’t seem too bad.” She shrugged. “It will be difficult being committed to only one man, but I think I could manage. Besides, my uncle could have done a lot worse.”

“Well then, I suppose we are betrothed.”

“It seems that way.”

And they continued on their walk, getting to know each other a little better.

Gendry had some sense of relief, but he couldn’t help to feel that perhaps he was making a rather large mistake. Either way, he pushed the feeling down and prepared to let Dany know that he finally accepted a prospect.

* * *

Arya awoke with the afternoon sun high in the sky. Her dreams were an endless darkness and she could no longer bear to lay witness to their cruelties, so she opened her eyes and prepared to greet the day.

She’d be lying if the words Sansa had spoken hadn’t broken her heart. Gendry was moving on and it wasn’t with her. She could stop it; announce that she had finally returned home to the rest of Westeros; but would Gendry be willing to be with her after all she had done to him?

The thought was fleeting but lingered just long enough for her to gather her courage and decide that she was willing to test the waters of rejection. At least she could say she tried to suede him, that their love, even though they had been apart, and she had broken his heart, was strong enough to last their tribulations.

She knew what she had to do, and come dusk, she would board her ship and sail to Griffin’s Roost and convince Gendry to be with her.

Arya was never one to beg, but if she had to, she would, for she could not stand to lose him again, not when he was so close to being hers again.

She gathered her things, only the clothes she had traveled in and Needle, along with a few other daggers and knives that she had strapped to herself before leaving her ship. If she left now, she would be able to make to White Harbor before the sun were to set, but she could not leave things unsaid. She still had to meet her niece and gods be damned if she left without meeting her.

She exited her old chambers and made her way down the hall to Sansa’s, knocking lightly before entering. It was doubtful she would be up to any Wardeness duties, and Arya had the sneaking suspicion that she may have been trying to teach her daughter to sew.

“You see Catelyn, like this. You gathered the fabric and sew through it. Be careful not to poke your fingers.” Sansa said sweetly as Arya entered the room.

“But mother…I want to go play with Ser Brienne! She’s been teaching me how to wield a sword.” Little Catelyn whined.

Arya tried to stifle a laugh, but the point was moot, “Ah! The gods did curse you!”

“Oh, Arya! Stop it, can’t you see I’m teaching your niece how to sew!” Sansa jumped at her sister, startled by her unannounced presence.

Arya clutched her stomach as she rolled with laughter. “I hadn’t believed you, but by the gods, she is exactly like me!”

“I told you, did I not?” Sansa clutched her stomach as she lifted from where she was sitting. “Come, Cat, meet your Aunt Arya.”

Arya watched as little Catelyn stood swiftly from her chair, running to where Arya was and nearly tackling her to the ground. It was a welcome surprise to have a child run to her and cling to her like she was their only life source. It had startled Arya a bit, but she gladly accepted the embrace and pulled her up into her arms.

“Well, hello, little one.” Arya mussed. “It is nice to meet you.”

“Aunt Arya! Are you real?” She asked, truly mesmerized by Arya’s presence.

Arya let out a laugh, “Of course I am real!”

Catelyn mussed and grasped Arya harder. “Mother, it is Aunt Arya!”

“Yes, sweetling, it is.” Sansa smiled.

Arya gave Catelyn a quick peck on the cheek and watched as her face lit up. At that moment Podrick entered the room and Catelyn was quick to jump out of her arms and hip right into his, embracing him just as tightly as she held onto Arya.

“He is her world.” Sansa said under her breath, for only Arya to hear.

She understood what her sister meant, for she was same with her father. The scene folding before her brought tears to her eyes. It had been so long since she’s felt like that, and seeing her niece embrace Podrick was perhaps one of the best things in the world.

“Arya, it is good to see you again.” Pod stated as he let Catelyn down.

“You as well, Pod. I see your cock is magical after all.” She joked.

Sansa gasped, “Arya!”

“Yes, it is.” He joked back.

“Honestly, you two, Catelyn is in the room!” Sansa chided them both.

Pod laughed and looked down at Catelyn, “Darling, let us go so your mother and aunt can converse.”

Catelyn bounced and nodded, grabbing Pod’s hand before yanking him out of her mother’s chambers.

“They both are a handful.” Sansa said as she lowered herself back onto the chair she was sitting in earlier. “You looked good with her. I think you’ll be a great mother one day.”

“Sansa…” Arya warned.

“Stop it! I know why you came back, even if you refuse to admit it. You miss home and you are longing for something that terrifies you! You want a family, do you not?”

Arya remained silent.

She hated how well her sister could easily see past her walls, and even as four years had passed she could still do it so well.

It was well guarded secret; one she had been keeping from herself for so long. She did want a family and she wanted one with Gendry. It had taken her a while to admit it herself, and now with her sister voicing her secret, she had no choice but to face it.

“I want him. And I was stupid to think I didn’t!”

“So you’re going to Storm’s End.” It was a question, Arya knew, and she confirmed her sister’s suspicions.

“Well, your ship is stocked and ready for the three-day journey to Griffin’s Roost.”

“You knew?” Arya asked, true surprise coating her voice.

Sansa smiled, “Of course I knew! You asked of him, but even before then, I knew. You love him, have for a long time. So go to Storm’s End and get your happiness, because I cannot bear to see you miserable.”

Arya jumped into her sister’s arms, “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you, too. Now go!”

Arya nodded and swiftly exited her sister’s chambers, nearly running down the halls. She was determined and she was going to Storm’s End to let Gendry know how she truly felt.

* * *

Gendry and Lady Alora walked hand in hand as they entered the dining hall, turning heads as they did so. Dany looked upon them and Gendry only nodded, confirming her thoughts, receiving a broad smile from her as he walked up to the dais to join the rest of their companions.

Celeste eyed him for afar and smiled that he was finally moving on, accepting that her physical companionship would no longer be needed.

And although no one uttered a word, there was a sense of knowing as each one, aside from Daenerys’ lady’s maids, nodded in congratulations.

The breaking of their fast had gone uneventful and afterwards, Lady Alora was shown to her temporary cabins. Daenerys had wanted to discuss wedding preparations, but Jon was able to pull her aside and convince to take a stroll with up the cliffs that Gendry had just show to Lady Alora. He knew it was much too soon and had planned on talking with Daenerys about preparing their own wedding before trying to dictate someone else’s.

This left Gendry to his thoughts, which could linger if left unchecked.

There was so much that had happened in the last few hours, that it was near impossible to wrap his head around. He had become betrothed, despite his antics to ward off nearly all of the potential prospects. He was utterly surprised that Lady Alora had convinced him otherwise. He would still be in love with Arya, there was no dissuading his feelings on that, but Lady Alora had been right in saying that perhaps it was time he moved on and tried to gain some happiness in the life that he had now.

He couldn’t linger on the possibility of her returning, for if she were to return to Westeros he was sure she would have done it by now.

And yes, there was always the possibility for her to return, but years would have gone by and Gendry would not be the same man. He needed to find happiness before his years became limited, and he believed that Lady Alora could help him with that.

He could see himself with her, but every time he pictured their future together, grey eyes would invade creating a picture that now only tortured his heart rather then sooth the break that had never truly healed.

He took a swing of his goblet, downing the sweet taste of wine before gathering himself to move to his chambers for a much-needed nap. He rose from his place at the high table, ready to leave when he saw Celeste glide his way. He motioned for her to join him and she gladly stepped upon the dais, taking the seat next to his.

“I hear a congratulations are in order.” She smiled warmly towards him.

Gendry chuckled, “I supposed they are.”

“Hmm, what a shame, I did quite enjoy our trysts. I guess I’ll have to find someone else to entertain.” She teased.

“If I’ve been watching correctly, you’ve had a quiet an eye on Ser Lockley. He is fine soldier and could make a great husband.” Gendry mussed to his friend. He watched as her cheeks went red and she turned slightly, as to hide her blush. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. We both know what our coupling was, nothing more than a means relieve stress.”

“It’s not that, although I do appreciate the fact that you think I would fancy you. It’s just…once he realizes that I am sterile, would he care to be with me?” she confessed.

Gendry’s eyes softened, “Celeste, there are other means of having children. There are plenty that were left orphaned by the wars. I’m sure you would make a child happy if you were to take one in.”

Celeste sighed, “I know…well…you see…he’s asked me to marry him. I haven’t given an answer, because he doesn’t know I can’t have children. He doesn’t know about what we’ve been up to; I don’t think anyone should know, but what if he hates me?”

“Then he doesn’t truly love you.”

“I’ll have to leave the castle; settle in at the small keep he’s obtained from his father. Its quite exciting.”

Gendry chuckled, “That’s a shame, none of the other chambermaids know how to draw my bath.”

“Oh, stop quipping!” She shoved him lightly. “I’m sure Harley would love the opportunity.”

“Look, tell him the truth, and if he wants to marry you after that, then do it, because that means he loves you. Besides, I’m happy to see you happy. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Gendry, for everything.” She gave him a small embrace before departing.

Gendry smiled after his close friend and prayed that the gods were kind to her. They have dealt her such horrible luck in the years he has known her, and she deserved some good in her life. And although they had been intimate, it was nothing more than a casually fuck between the two of them. He’s known that she was courting Ser Lockley, or at least trying to, and hearing such good news, he hoped it went her way.

Perhaps the tides were turning, and there was hope after all that he could put his past behind him. The question was, did he want to? It is so hard for him to let her go, and he can feel his heart break even more as he tries.

He may not have her there physically, but his mind was a cruel thing and even as he tried to focus on his betrothed and the life they can make, it was Arya Stark he could only ever see himself with.

* * *

Arya journey to Griffin’s Roost was unceremoniously boring.

In the two days it took her to travel from White Harbor to Griffin’s Roost, nothing remotely excited had occurred. It reminded her of her long pause between islands and how she nearly ran herself with her sword to stop the thoughts from getting out of hand. Luckily, they had seemed to cease, giving her some reprieve from the darkness of her mind.

It was always a scary thought for her, to think that she could easily slip back into that darkness and wouldn’t be able to pull herself back out. It was as close call on her journey, but with her decision to go back home, she found that she could slowly come back into the light.

It was healing to see her sister and see that she was thriving, and yes, although she was mildly jealous, she wanted nothing but happiness for her. And it seemed as if her sister wanted her to find her own happiness. Sansa knew exactly what Arya needed and the only way for her to feel whole again was to tell Gendry how she truly felt. To let him know what she decided to leave and eventually come back.

As always, she couldn’t be sure what his reaction would be. Surely there would be yelling and fighting, but she hoped that it could end on pleasing note.

He was a stubborn one, but even she could persuade him to see why she left and maybe, he could forgive her.

Arya shook her head, she couldn’t linger on the what if’s of her inevitable encounter with him, she had to present to the now.

She watched as her ship finally docked into the small port of Griffin’s Roost. There wasn’t much and couldn’t compare to White Harbor, but it was enough for her to begin her trek to Storm’s End. The ride, she knew, would take at least a few days so she wanted nothing more than to dock and gather a horse for the journey. She knew her crewmen would care for the ship, and if all went well, she would have no need for it.

She waited as her crewmen roped the ship, securing into place before exiting.

As she stumbled down the dock, she noticed a band of men waiting at the end. She knew Sansa had sent a raven to Griffin’s Roost announcing she would be docking, but she hadn’t expected Lord Connington’s men to greet her.

“Gentlemen, what a surprise to see you here.” She stated. “I’m sure my sister mentioned that I am just docking and will be needing a horse for my journey to Storm’s End.”

“Aye, she did.” A tall men said. Arya noticed how he placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, making her alert.

“Well, then, where is my horse.” She asked as she stepped a little further down the dock. She noticed there were at least four men, including the one who spoke. They were shuffling around her, trying to cut off any potential escape routes.

“We will give you one, but we have to take tariffs from the ship.”

“I beg your pardon. You are not to take anything from my ship.” Arya shifted her hand to Needle, ready to attack at moment’s notice. “What is on that ship belongs to me and my crewman, not some fat lord who sits on his chair all day.”

“Lord Connington thought you’d resist.” He began to creep towards Arya, his sword now unsheathed from its holster.

“Good ser, you really do not want to do that.” Arya warned, but the man didn’t listen, and he charged.

Arya was quick to maneuver, easily dodging his advanced. She danced around him, smooth and swift as water, stabbing him in the back of the knee. The man fell to the ground, clutching his wound, but very much eager to continue. He bit back the pain and stood to face Arya, who had already moved around him, punching him in the middle of the back. The man yelped in pain, clutching the stop she had hit claiming his legs had gone numb.

It was tactic she had learned on one of the islands; a way to dispel an enemy without having to kill them. It was nice reprieve to such violence she was accustomed to. It took her many moons to master it, but once she had it was forever engraved into her head.

“Is there anyone else that care to take things from my ship?” She asked the remaining men. They backed slowly, replacing their swords within their holsters. “Good, now someone get be a damn horse.”

* * *

Gendry rose early to bid Daenerys and Jon a farewell.

With Gendry’s excited news of betrothal, Daenerys had been pleased and wished nothing more than to return to the capital with good news.

To be honest, Gendry was rather happy that the Queen and her court were headed back to the capital. He wasn’t sure how more of the giggling lady’s maids or Tyrion’s constant drunken quips he could take. He, of course, was saddened to see Jon go, for he was a true friend that understood his predicaments.

They were cut from the same cloth, and Gendry felt as if Jon understood him more than he cared to admit. Perhaps even more than Arya. Sure, he had grown up with her, loved her, bedded her but Jon knew things about Gendry that Arya could never understand, not if she wasn’t raised a bastard.

He, along with Lady Alora were stationed just by the gates, waiting for Daenerys and Jon to exit the castle.

In the days that she had been there, Gendry had learned more about her and her him. He confided that to her that, yes, he did have a lost love and that he would never truly be ever to forget her. She returned that there were several lovers she had left behind in Dorne that she wished she could be with again.

They had an understanding, one that Gendry hoped could turn into fondness.

Daenerys and Jon finally exited, making their way to their readied carriages. Her lady’s maids trotted behind her with Tyrion looking at their wagging bums as he followed them.

“Thank you for having us, Gendry. The trip has been pleasant.” Daenerys smiled.

“Anytime, your grace.” He bowed.

Gendry turned towards Jon, “Good seeing you, Jon.”

“Likewise.” He took ahold of Gendry’s hand and shook it firmly.

The two were about to step into their carriage when Davos came sprinting out of the castle.

“Wait!” he yelled, halting their processions. “There’s a raven!”

“What is, Ser Davos?” Daenerys asked.

“It’s Arya Stark! She’s returned and she’s in her way here!”

Gendry’s heart nearly stopped.

The raven he had been waiting for had finally arrived after four years. Arya was back, and not a moment too soon.

“Are you certain?” He asked Davos, taking the scroll from his hand. It held the official seal of House Connington, giving its validity.

“Aye, she rides for Storm’s End. She’ll be here in a few days’ time.”

His heart clenched and he could feel the excitement bubble within him, but with that excitement came dread. There were so many things they had to talk about, so many things he had to tell her. And as he began to form those thoughts, the anger started to boil.

How could she return after all this time and expect him to take her with open arms? Of course, he would, but not before he let her know how he felt about her departure.

Everything was so confusing.

He now had a betrothed, yet he was willing to end it at the flip of a coin if it meant he could be with Arya. He hoped Lady Alora would understand, perhaps she wouldn’t mind, if it meant she could return home. He looked up at her briefly and she smiled, giving a nod.

“This is splendid news! Why don’t we wait for her to arrive, I am sure Jon would love to see his sister after all this time.” Daenerys stated.

“I can’t believe Arya is back! My sister is back!” Jon exclaimed as he entered the castle, with Davos close behind giving him a pat on the back.

Gendry just stood there, bemused at the letter. It took him a while to move from his post, but once he was able to wrap his head around the idea of her return, he strutted towards the castle, hope quenching his heart.

…

“Lord Tyrion, let the capital know that we have delayed our return a few days.” Daenerys said to him as she watched Gendry walk back into the castle.

“Yes, your grace. Should I also inform them of the betrothal?”

“Yes, tell them a stag and wolf are to be joined.” She smiled.

“Your grace, are you certain?”

Daenerys recalled the way Gendry lit up when the letter had revealed Arya’s return, and there would only be one reason as to why she would decide to show up now. “Yes, Tyrion, I am certain.”

* * *

Her journey from Griffin’s Roost to Storm’s End had started rather rocky, but she was happy for the adventure it had provided. It was a good while since she had last had a good fight.

However, the journey though the dense woods had proved a challenge. It had been a good while since she traveled in such a way, only accustomed to the sway of a ship and the gallop of horse. Traveling over rough rocks and terrain had made her ill, and she had to stop several times to dispel her stomach of it’s contents.

But when she saw the high tower of Storm’s End, Arya couldn’t help but smile. She was so close and the gates from afar looked inviting.

As her horse trotted up the road to the gates, Arya could feel her stomach twist in knots. She knew that Gendry was just beyond the closed iron, and all she had to do was stride in to see his blue eyes. There was no avoiding him, or at least she could try, but her whole reasoning for coming to Storm’s End was too see him and to stop his betrothal. It didn’t seem like impossible feat, but what if he had moved on? Would he be willing to give his betrothed up for her?

She was hoping those questions would be answered, although she had no idea what to expect as she rode closer to Storm’s End.

As she finally reaches the gates of the castle, she sees two guards perched on the high wall, inspecting the lands before them.

“Halt! Who comes to Storm’s End?” One of the guards shouts out.

“It is I, Arya Stark of Winterfell. I’ve come to meet with your high lord.” She shouts back.

The guards converse and nod as they open the gates to let her pass. It was an easier feat than trying to get into Winterfell, and she was relieved of that.

She pushed the horse forward, trotting through the entrance. She had only managed to get a few paces in when she saw him.

He was brooder in the shoulders, but not by much, and he seems to have packed on a bit of more muscle since she saw him last. His hair was unkept, much like when she first met him, and his beard was growing in. But what stood out the most was the way that his deep blue eyes bore into her grey ones. There was plenty said as they exchanged looks, enough to know that when the time came for them to truly talk, it would be a rather heated conversation.

She pulled her horse to a stop and jumped from the saddle, landing perfectly on her feet. There was a bit of mud that had squished around them as she landed, which was to be expected in the Stormlands. It was after all, a very wet place.

As Arya handed the reigns to a near by stable boy, she caught sight of Jon and charged to where he was standing. There should have been formalities, but she hadn’t seen her older brother in nearly four years. She could not wait to embrace him. Throwing herself into his arms, she heard him grunt, then let out a hearty laugh.

“Still as energetic as ever, I see.” He mussed as he embraced her tightly.

Arya laughed, “Only with you, big brother.”

She squeezed him tight, only letting go when Daenerys cleared her throat from behind. She dropped to her feet then, as Jon set her down. Arya glanced over at Daenerys and studied her face, trying to gauge of what she was seeing was genuine. There was a smile on her face, but it was laced with discomfort and unnerve; almost as if she were intimidated to see Arya once more. It had been a long time, and although Daenerys did prove her wrong and had Westeros to glory, Arya still felt a bit off about her.

She did admire the dragon queen, but that didn’t pause Arya’s suspicions about her rule. Ture, she had done nothing less of what a great ruler would do, but there was still time in her reign for her to faulter, and if Arya saw even one hint of that, she would make sure to put Daenerys Targaryen in her place.

“Queen Daenerys, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Arya said confidently, nothing letting her weariness of the queen slip.

Daenerys smiled then, easing herself closer to Arya as she spoke, “You as well, Lady Arya. It had been sometime. Imagine our shock when a raven came announcing you had returned to Westeros.”

“A raven came…from where?” She asked, truly surprised by the revelation.

“Griffin’s Roost. It seems you had a run in with Lord Connington’s men.” She said with a smirk. It seems Arya had impressed Daenerys in some way, and she took pride in that.

With a smug shrug, Arya said, “They were righteous pigs, claiming that anything that ports at Griffin’s Roost was to be theirs. It was simple misunderstanding, that happened to leave a few men bruised.”

“Well, we are all glad to see you safe from your travels. Shall we convene in the high lord’s solar for supper?”

“I don’t think-”

“That is a terrific idea, cousin. Please, Lady Arya, why don’t you join us?” Gendry chimed in before she could utter her rejection.

A scowl twisted on her face, which she quickly replaced with a half-hearted grin as Jon and Daenerys passed by her.

Arya watched as the remaining party followed Gendry up to his solar when she noticed a tall woman clinging to his arm. She was beautiful and no doubt that of high status. From her copper skin, Arya could tell she was from Dorne. Just by the way she walked, she was a proper lady, but was truly surprised her was the attire she chose to wear. Rather then prance around in a dress, like much of the other high ladies, she was wearing cropped breeches that showed her ankles and a blouse with the sleeves complete cut, exposing her tones copper arms.

They way her fingers curled around Gendry’s hand had made Arya’s blood boil. She may be avoiding Gendry, but she that didn’t mean she wanted someone else with their hands all over him.

She sulked in the back of the party as they paraded up the stairs, only smiling when she took her place at the table in Gendry’s solar. There were enough seats to house eight people, yet there were only six. Davos had decided to join, leaving his wife to fend for herself in their empty chambers. Daenerys had shooed her lady’s maid away, claiming it was a private affair that did not concern them.

Arya was relieved that she had sent them off; just by her brief glance at them as she entered the gates, they seemed like a giggly bunch, reminding her too much of her younger years and the constant torment Jeyne Poole would elicit.

As the supper proceeded, Arya found herself listening to the trials and tribulations Jon and Daenerys had been going through trying to bring Westeros to its feet. Although they were trying, there were still a few loyalist to the Lannister reign and they were often met with a few assignation attempts. It was unnerving to hear, and Arya couldn’t help but grip the pommel of her Needle a little tighter.

Davos went on to talk about his affinity to be a good advisor to anyone who asks. He had help Gendry with his numbers, and with the help of the maester, they both were able to learn their letters and even gain a vocabulary of that of a high lord.

She had to admit, it was a little disheartening to hear the fancy words come out of Gendry’s mouth. He had always been rugged and crude, and she enjoyed the hits of his southern accent when he got flustered. It was something she would often dream about, for she could hear his voice when she slept.

Then Lady Alora began to talk, and Arya wanted nothing more than to throw a dagger at her pretty face. She wasn’t snobby nor rude, it was the fact that she thought Arya would care to hear what she had to say. She had caught glimpses of her conversation, such as her youth in Dorne or how she had attained many lovers as she grew into womanhood.

That wasn’t a surprise, for many Dornish nobles took plenty of lovers. It was the fact, even though she her maidenhead was not intact, that she could be eligible for marriage. Of course, times had changed, and she would be going against what she believed in if she were to say that it was the custom, but she couldn’t help the itch to embarrass her, even just a little.

But she bit her tongue and continued to pretend to listen to the Dornish lady.

If felt like hours had passed before Daenerys had rose from her chair, reaching for Jon’s hand.

“I believe we’ve had our share of stories. I think it is time we all retired.”

“Aye, my wife will be wondering where I am.” Davos chimed.

Arya watched as her brother and Dany left Gendry’s solar followed by Davos. Lady Alora had also risen from her chair, looking directly at Arya.

“Lady Arya, your chambers are right beside mine, I would be more than happy to escort you. It seems Lord Baratheon had a room made up as soon as the raven arrived.” She smiled.

“Right. Sure, lead the way.” Arya picked herself up from the chair, only glancing back to Gendry for a brief moment before following Lady Alora out to the hall.

They remained silent as they walked down to the very end of the long hallway, taking the staircase down to the lower level of the drum where the guest chambers were housed. It was only when Lady Alora had stopped in front of what was to be Arya’s room, did she speak.

“I cannot help but feel that you do not like me, Lady Arya.” She said.

Arya scoffed, “Do not take it personally, I generally don’t like anyone I first meet.”

“Hmmm, that is not the case. No, I believe your dislike comes from the fact that Gendry and I are to be married, is it not?”

“I-well…that’s not-I don’t think…shit.” It had been so long since someone could see past her charade and if Lady Alora could grasp it, had others as well?

“I take no offense, if you wish to have them, then take him.” She simply stated.

Arya looked at the woman quizzically. She hadn’t met another person so blunt; perhaps Lord Tyrion could make a few japes, but to have a high Lady be so forth coming was…surprising.

“I know you two love each other.” Lady Alora took advantage of Arya’s silence and continued on. “I had an inkling he was still pining for some lost love, and the moment the raven landed stating your return, his face lit up like the moon in the night sky.”

“So, you are not angry?” Arya questioned.

“Sevens, no! I’ve only known him for a few days. Besides, I’d very much like to return to Dorne, the air here is too sticky.” She laughed. “Also, I’ve a lover waiting for me back home…well several, actually.”

Arya smiled, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Do not say anything,” Alora shrugged, “Show him.”

And with that she turned on her heel and entered her chambers, leaving Arya to gather her thoughts. Most high-born women would have been furious that the thought of their betrothal ending because of a lost love, but not Alora. She seemed fine with it and Arya realized that perhaps she had judged the Dornish lady too harshly.

Heeding her advice, Arya crept back up the stairs to where Gendry’s combined chambers and solar were kept. He had the whole upper floor of the drum to himself, meaning there could be privacy of needed. She hadn’t gone back to him with the intentions of falling into his feather bed, but the idea lingered, and she hoped that perhaps something of the sorts could happen.

She took a deep breath before lightly rapping upon his oak door.

It took several minutes, but he finally opened it, revealing that his shirt was missing, and his breeches were half tied. He must’ve been readying himself for bed when she decided to intrude.

Arya pushed herself in, not waiting for a response. She made a line for the small table in his chambers, pouring herself a hefty goblet of wine and downing it in one gulp. If she were to have it out with Gendry, then she needed a bit of liquid courage to stomach the ordeal.

Turning, she faced Gendry, his face in a deep scowl as he waiting for her to speak.

“So, how ha-”

“Don’t you dare ask me how I’ve been.” His voice came out harshly and Arya winced at the tone. “You think you can come back after four years and pretend nothing has changed between us?”

“That’s not why I came back.” She simply stated. “I know things have changed between us, that’s why I came to talk.”

“To talk? So breaking my heart a first time wasn’t enough for you?” He scoffed.

“Gods, will you shut up and let me talk!” She nearly screamed. “Yes, I broke your heart, but I broke mine as well. You think I wanted to do that to you? To tell you to run off an marry some other woman. I never wanted that!”

Gendry gave a curt laugh, “Well you definitely didn’t show it.”

“Can’t you see that I had to leave? I wasn’t good enough for you, not then. Not when I wasn’t good enough for myself.”

“Gods, Arya, I was fucking low born blacksmith and you thought you weren’t good enough for me?”

Arya sighed, “It wasn’t about stature, Gendry. It was about how I felt about myself! I wasn’t…there wasn’t good in me, so I had to leave. I needed to fine who Arya Stark was again, before I could even think about being with anyone!”

“Then why not tell me that! Instead you decided to stab me in the chest!” Gendry nearly screamed. He was now face inches from Arya’s face, and she could feel the anger seeping from him.

“Because you would have never let me go! You would have tried to stop me or go with me when I needed to be _alone_. From everyone.” She yelled back.

“So why now? Have you finally gotten bored of being alone and thought you could just come back to pick up where we left off?”

“Turns out being alone can create a lot more questions than answers. There was a point during my voyage where we would hop from island to island, meeting locals and natives and I would map them. I hardly had time to think. But then those islands became fewer, and soon we hadn’t docked in almost a year. I had a ship with nearly a hundred crew members, yet I felt so alone. It was deafening! I was going mad with my own thoughts that I nearly jumped over the helm to sink into the ocean just to stop them. And the nightmares…they are the worst. I have them, nearly every night, and they always end the same; with my unhappiness.”

“So what are you trying to say?” Gendry pushed. “What do you want to tell me?”

“That I was wrong. But I wouldn’t change my choices. I would have still left, because in the end, I did find Arya Stark again, not some shell of human being trained to only kill. I knew it was time to come home, because I could no longer take the seclusion, for it would have killed me. I craved my family; I craved you.”

Gendry’s eyes softened as she watched Arya spill the most vulnerable parts of her. Somehow, it was more intimate then their coupling, even more so than when they held each other close after the battle of Winterfell. This was a different kind of intimacy that he knew took a lot of courage for her to produce.

“I’ve been miserable. Being a lord is not all that it’s talked about. There are so many responsibilities that I wasn’t ready for. Not to mention the lessons of reading and writing; the maester smacked my hand for a solid year before I was able to get my letters straight. Then came the marriage prospects, and although I knew it was my duty, I could not stop seeing you in everyone one that I met. Gods, Arya, it was torture. Even when I was with another, all I could see was you.” He confessed.

Arya smirked, “Oh, so you had a lover?”

“Is that the only thing you heard out of that entire speech?” He japed.

Arya laughed, “Of course not! I just…I had to make it light.”

Gendry nodded and pulled Arya into his arms.

She gladly accepted, taking in his scent. It was still that of soot and pine, and the familiarity was comforting.

“We could marry, you know.” She said after a moment. “I’m not opposed to the idea as I once was.”

“And you’d be okay with that? Being a lord’s wife?” He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“If it meant that that lord would be you, then yes. Besides, I could help you balance out the high life. I know it can be difficult, but together, it could be bearable.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to tell Lady Alora.”

Arya smiled, “I don’t think she would mind.”

“At least it would appease Daenerys. The joining of two large houses should appease her appetite.”

“Then it’s settled, we are to marry.” Arya pushed from Gendry’s arms and began to disrobe, peeling off the layers of her jerkin. She was eager to with him; had been since she left on her damned ship.

Gendry huffed, but understood her vigor and pulled his already loose breeches from his body, leaving him bare just for her. He swiftly grabbed her naked body within his arms and took her to the feather bed that laid awaiting, gently placing her on the top furs.

Arya watched as Gendry pushed her legs open, bending forward to lap at her slick folds.

Her nerve ending tingled with pleasure as she writhed on the bed, her hips gently buckling. It had been so long since she had felt this good and she didn’t want it to stop.

“Yes…yes!” She screamed, finding that she was falling deeper into abyss, but just as she was about to truly fall into complete darkness, his gorgeous face rises form between her legs, lips kinked to the side in a knowing smile.

“Why’d you stop?” She huffs as she tries to catch her breath. Gendry only smiles as he begins to trail light kisses up her body, peppering them all around her sensitive spots. He stops just above her right nipple, his tongue teasing it as he flicked the erect bud. Arya gasps, only to have it smothered as his lips come together with hers in a passionate kiss.

She felt as if her body was fire as she feels Gendry’s rough hands trail down to her hips, grasping them tight.

Arya moans as her center makes contact with the undeniable evidence of desire, and her hips rock against his. She can’t seem to catch her breath as the sensations overwhelm her sensitive body. All she could keep chanting was, “I need you!” and just as the wave is about to break and she can no longer contain herself, Gendry’s hips rock into hers, pushing his member deep within her.

Arya gasps, for it had been so long since something had evaded her lower region. Even with the occasional lover, none could sate the desire she had for Gendry.

There were plenty of nights in her lonely cabin where she remembered the way he had caressed her after their first coupling. It would often leave her with her hand pumping away at her core, just to get a reprieve.

But this was so much better; having the real thing.

She truly missed him and being whole with him felt satisfying.

They devoured each other as the night went on, each taking and giving and exploring the new divots their bodies had obtained. It was compelling, almost as if they were bewitched with the presence of one another. They would take their relief and study the other’s face as they laid breathless beside one another, only to get a new wave of vigor to start again.

All through the night, they went and when the sun finally crested over the hill, their bodies were truly spent.

Gendry looked upon the tired for of his Arya, smiling at her sated face.

“Are you happy now?” he asked as he brushed a fallen piece of hair from her face.

“Mmmm, more than ever.”


End file.
